Advent: The Day of the Lord

Cross-posted from a series to come at Theopolis. For the others, sign up here.

The Lord’s advent is all about turning things upside down. In Isaiah 2, when the day of the Lord comes, the mountain of the temple of the Lord is raised up, while the lofty cedars of Lebanon are brought low. High towers topple. Proud and haughty men are brought low. And the Lord alone is exalted in that day.

Later in Isaiah, a voice cries out, which effects a similar reversal. The valleys are lifted up, the hills made low, and the rough ground made plain. The Hebrew describes this beautifully: the word for ‘rough ground’ (Hebrew העקב) is the word for ‘plain’ reversed (בקעה) (Isa. 40).

These notions feature heavily in the prayers of Mary and Elizabeth. In and through Mary’s child, God will raise up a horn of salvation in Israel and bring down the high and mighty from their thrones (Luke 1).

Mary and Elizabeth’s prayers thus reflect what Isaiah reflects.

They also find an important echo in the life and prayers of Hannah, which I’d like to consider below.

Like Elizabeth’s, much of Hannah’s life was tainted by sadness. Hannah was unable to conceive, cruelly taunted by her rival (who was able to conceive), and badly underestimated by Israel’s high priest. As she prays, Hannah is, therefore, ‘deeply distressed’ (I Sam. 1.10), which is a significant phrase. The relevant Hebrew phrase is marat nefesh. It translates (slightly woodenly) as ‘bitter of soul’. But it doesn’t mean what we often mean when we talk about someone who’s ‘bitter’ (i.e., someone who’s stewing over what’s been done to them and should move on). In I Samuel, the phrase mar nefesh (the masculine form of marat nefesh) is used to describe David’s men—men who are in difficulty and debt and have likely been exploited (I Sam. 22.2). In II Samuel, it’s used to describe she-bears who’ve been robbed of their cubs (II Sam. 17.8). And Job uses the phrase repeatedly to describe the injustice he’s been done (Job 3.20, 7.11, 10.1). We shouldn’t, therefore, see Hannah as merely sad, much less as stewing over something she should let go. Hannah has been mistreated and misunderstood. She’s rightfully aggrieved and wants to see justice done. And so, as she pours out her heart in prayer, God answers her. Then, in subsequent chapters of I Samuel, we see God’s answer start to unfold, which is described with the same kind of poetic sophistication we saw in Isaiah 40.

The woman who was previously ‘embittered’ (marah) is ‘exalted’ (ramah) (I Sam. 2.1). The woman who ‘provoked’ Hannah (R-‘-M) is silenced as the Lord ‘thunders’ (R-‘-M) from heaven (I Sam. 1.6, 2.10). The priests who were previously ‘full’ (S-B-‘) are about to be humbled by Hannah’s ‘seven’ sons (SH-B-‘) (I Sam. 2.5). And the ‘wicked’ (רשעים) are about to be silenced by ‘the God who makes rich’ (מעשיר) (I Sam. 2.7, 9).

All these things take place in and through the rise of Samuel as Eli is brought down from his throne (I Sam. 1.9, 4.18) and a corrupt priesthood is ousted from God’s sanctuary (I Sam. 2.34–36). In the same way, the rise of Jesus will spell the end of a corrupt priesthood, whose mountain/Temple will be thrown into the sea.

As we meditate on these things, we should bear in mind how they begin. Changing the world is often seen as a top-down activity. Get the right people in power and they’ll soon set things straight. Or so the story goes. But that’s not how Samuel’s story goes. Samuel’s story begins with a mistreated woman pouring out her heart before God in prayer, and a God who hears the cries of the humble.